


Alpine Forest At Dusk

by rubberplant



Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: Friendship, Gen, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Klinger Is A Bro, Nail Polish, Shippy if you Squint, though it's just Radar and Klinger hanging out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-03-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:41:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23264143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rubberplant/pseuds/rubberplant
Summary: “Look Radar do you want me to paint your toenails or something?”Radar frowned, then something in his expression changed and his eyes shut a little and opened. A shy smile flitted across his lips. “Could you?”
Relationships: Maxwell Klinger & Radar O'Reilly
Comments: 4
Kudos: 51





	Alpine Forest At Dusk

“Klinger! Hey, gee, Klinger,” 

Radar caught up to him and stood gasping, adjusting his glasses and not noticing the good natured smirk that grew across his fellow corporal’s face. 

“Yeah, what’s eating you Kid?” Klinger asked, not stopping his nightly march exactly, but adjusting down his pace for him. His helmet, slung haphazardly on his head, gun on shoulder, and white floral dress glowing subtly blue from the sparse light. 

Radar blinked and checked his clipboard for a half second. “Oh. It’s just that Major Houlihan, asked me to ask you, that you needed to give her nail polish back, and on the double too!” Radar reported, tone apologetic and eyes shifting in the dark.

“Oh yeah, I forgot about that stuff! That must have been a month ago. C’mon Radar lets go get it back for the good Major,” He said, promptly turning into the direction of his tent. Radar sighed, slightly exasperated, and followed Klinger through the camp, silently cursing Margaret for giving him such an order this late. 

He stood at the doorway of Klinger’s tent, taking in the sheer expanse of color that was the soul of the room. Dresses and coats and petticoats, every shade and pattern imaginable, and then the keeper himself digging through a trunk beside the bed. 

“Ah, let’s see… Here, Radar take this stuff please,” He was handed a sewing kit, a heap of glittery green satin, and a truly enormous and heavy hat. 

“Oh, woah,” He muttered, and carefully slid the things to the bed, peeking at Klinger to see he was still half way through the trunk.

“Ah HAH! I’m surprised she didn’t ask for this sooner. I guess she forgot, right?” Klinger grinned at Radar and held up a little bottle of clear nail polish.

Radar took it carefully and turned it over to see the thick liquid turn itself around within the bottle, studying the movement. Klinger hoisted himself onto the bed and chucked the offending hat squarely into the trunk.

“Say, Klinger, isn’t nail polish supposed to maybe have colors and be colorful-like?” Radar asked after a few moments.

“Here, gimme that Radar-” Klinger caught the tiny bottle softly in his big hands and read him the label. “See, it’s the top coat. To kind of protect the actual colors. Make it last longer.”

“Oh,” Radar replied, peering at the nail polish with renewed interest. Klinger paused a little, to look at Radar, eyes narrowed, before offering, 

“I have some regular ones too, if you wanted to look at them.”

Radar blinked at him, looking a little aghast. Klinger blinked back and shrugged. He reached behind him to a little shelf where a couple colors were displayed. He grabbed a few and spilled the bottles out onto his army cot. Klinger looked pointedly at Radar, who was already turning over a bottle of forest green.

Klinger sighed at the young corporal before grabbing a light purple. He stroked a couple lines onto one fingernail then deliberately blew across it. Radar watched him intently. Klinger caused mid-blow and let his cheeks deflate. 

“Look Radar do you want me to paint your toenails or something?”

Radar frowned, then something in his expression changed and his eyes shut a little and opened. A shy smile flitted across his lips. “Could you?”

“Ok, good, Kid! Here I’ll do this green one,” Klinger said, taking the forest green (Alpine Forest At Dusk, actually) from Radar and unscrewing the lid. Radar got onto the cot next to him and quickly removed his boots and socks. 

“Your feet better be clean Radar,” Klinger jokingly warned, “Stick ‘em up here so I can reach ‘em.”

Radar compiled docile, bringing one knee up to his chest and resting his chin on it, watching Klinger apply the first strokes, bent almost in half over the bed.

“Hey, uh, Klinger,” Radar said in a small voice once Klinger had done three nails. “I just wanted to say, this doesn't make me a section 8 or anything like that. I mean I’m not, like, you know.”

Radar looked down into his knee. “...Just so you know.” 

Klinger sighed through his nose and looked Radar in the eyes until he stopped looking at his knee and peered up, making eye contact. 

“You’re fine Radar. If having some green toenails made a guy a section 8 I would be barefoot running around all day showing it off.”

“Other foot,” 

Radar switched his legs out, flexing his toes apart to not smudge the drying polish.

“You shouldn't take my word on it, but I think nail polish looks pretty ok on alot of guys.” Klinger fixed him a grin and Radar smiled back. 

“Would Hawkeye?” Radar asked after a couple moments of contemplation. “Look ok with nail polish, I mean.”

“I guess, if you slapped the right color on. Maybe some kinda dark blue.”

“For his eyes, right?”

“Could be. Now what’d you say for Charles?”

“Royal blue!”

“Doesn't suit his style. Though good try.”

“...What about Colonel Potter?” Radar’s lips turned up at the edge and his eyes crinkled happily. Something in Klinger’s heart twitched a little.

Klinger guffawed. “Hey wait, what about Sophie?”

“SOPHIE?! She’s a horse!”

Klinger carefully dabbed up a dollop of green that had been disturbed. “You can put nail polish on horse hooves. If you have a bucket and a paintbrush.” Klinger waved the little brush pointedly at Radar, face deadly serious.

Radar grinned into his knee. There came a muffled “Can not.”

“Can too.”

Radar just tilted his head and wrapped his arms around his knee, still grinning.

Klinger finished up the last toe and snapped his fingers. Conjuring up Margaret’s clear polish, he briefly coated each nail to his satisfaction. Surely a few more uses wouldn’t be missed by her.

“Klinger Nail Salon first customer, Corporal Radar!” Klinger stated, standing up with a flourish. “Now get your big feet off my bed and go see Major Houlihan.”

Radar puffed a little onto his toes to check if they were all the way dry, then tugged on his socks and boots. Klinger tossed him the little bottle he had first come for and he tucked it away in his pocket. 

He passed through the dazzlingly colorful room and stood at the doorway, the cool night air feeling better than it had in awhile.

“T-thanks Klinger. I mean, for everything.” Radar kind of shrugged and put his hands in his pockets to grip Margaret’s nail polish.

Klinger fixed him with a firm nod and a smile. “No problem, Kid,” He called softly across the tent.

Radar stayed at the doorway for a few seconds more, looking around for anyone before he could be seen leaving Klinger’s tent at 2300 hours. Radar gave a small wave, and Klinger shooed him away, till he heard the scattered footsteps of the young corporal running off in the night. 

  
  


The next morning Potter couldn’t help notice the one light purple index finger Klinger appeared to be sporting as he handed him paperwork. It confused him for a couple of reasons. It was too subtle to be a new section 8 ploy, yet it was too odd to be passed off for normal.

He came close to mentioning it a number of times. Hawkeye mentioned it two times. 

“Did the rest run away, Klinger?” He asked, eyeing his hand later lined up in the mess tent. 

“Yeah Hawkeye, right into your food,” 

He griped good naturedly, giving him a heaping pile of grayish paste. To his satisfaction he realized the slop actually did look light purple, if you looked at it in a certain light and from a certain angle. 

From across the mess tent Radar chuckled, not even looking up from his food, for a reason no one seated around him could tell.


End file.
